


Restless 35 Portland Row

by EmmaRushingThroughBooks



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: 35 Portland Row, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaRushingThroughBooks/pseuds/EmmaRushingThroughBooks
Summary: It's no lie that Lucy and Lockwood are head over heels for each other, but their friends think it's about time for them to confess their feelings to the other. After waking up in the middle of the night and seeing a drawing on the thinking cloth, Lucy and Lockwood start to consider confronting the other about their feelings.
Relationships: Flo Bones/George Cubbins, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Quill Kipps/Holly Munro
Kudos: 22





	Restless 35 Portland Row

**Lucy Carlyle POV**

The breeze was cool and calm and wonderous. The light blue sky was shining bright with the sun twice the size as normal. The trees shook lightly and the bushes rustled softly. Everything was perfect. I opened my eyes in the stunning, beautiful silence of the dream. Then, everything went strange. The breeze became a fierce wind, and the light blue sky became black as night, with the sun quickly being engulfed by revoltingly grey clouds.

The beauty of the world was stolen in less than three seconds, and I was trapped in a dream of darkness and evil and death. The flowers around me had wilted and on the ground, I saw a jar with a skull inside it. I knew this jar, and I knew this skull, the dangerous type three to whom I often talked to and secretly trusted, crackled and disappeared, being replaced by something I never wanted to see.

There Lockwood stood, dressed in a nice shirt, his usual attire, but he was in all black. Lockwoods eyes were darker than usual and did not have the same stunning understanding and tenderness that they usually do. Lockwood was not showing any friendly emotion, though I yearned to see his wolflike smile or his full and handsome grin. Instead, Lockwood was frowning sinisterly and was holding his rapier so that it was pointed at me. I opened my mouth as if to speak but no words could manage to even escape my throat. Lockwood sneered and with one quick movement, began to attack me.

I bolted up in my bed and quickly reached for my rapier, but I had forgotten it downstairs. I got up and, without even putting on my slippers, I walked down the stairs to the kitchen with a lit candle in hand. There my rapier was, gleaming on the tablecloth which was covered in thoughts, ideas, and drawings. I grabbed my rapier and set the candle down, only see a small drawing of a heart be revealed. The heart was drawn in red, and in black writing in the center of it was written the word, uncertainty. The word was written in Lockwood’s neat handwriting.

I placed a hand on the corner of the heart, examining it closely. I knew the day would come sometime soon, the day where Lockwood found himself someone good enough for him. I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought, though I was uncertain why. I heard a small noise come from the stairs as a tall boy came down. His hair was flawless but also very messed up from I could assume a restless night. His dark eyes glinted in the faint light that came from the candle. Lockwood strolled down the stairs with ease and I looked at his navy blue pajamas and his dark grey slippers.

“Lucy, what are you doing up?” he said softly. He said it without outrage or questioning but with understanding and pure curiosity.

“Bad dream,” I said remembering the horror of Lockwood attacking me mercilessly. “You?” I asked without thinking.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied calmly. “Want some cocoa?”

I was slightly shocked by the sudden change in conversation, but nodded my head and thanked him for the offer. I placed my rapier on the kitchen counter and sat down at the table. A few minutes later Lockwood sat down beside me holding two mugs of cocoa. He placed one beside me and took a sip of his which was in a large indigo mug.  
The mug he handed me was dark green, and full of whipped cream. I looked at him to find him staring at me with that wolf-like smile. I turned a bright pink and looked down to the cloth. I looked at the heart and went from pink to red. I placed my hand to where the heart was and covered it. Lockwood, however, saw it slightly, he went a bright red. 

“The fruit bowl is usually there…” he said, still red.

“Oh, I um…” I started, but couldn’t find anything more to say.

The two of us sat there silently staring at each other for quite a while. My mind was racing with emotions of confusion and uncertainty. I felt my heart quicken when Lockwood looked down at my hand and grabbed it with his own. I looked down at our hands and then back to his face. Lockwood was still blushing but he soon stopped and asked, “What was your nightmare about?”

I became an even brighter red, and I believed that I might glow in the dark if I got any brighter. I shook my head and looked away from his eyes, “It’s not important.”

Lockwood leaned to the side to meet my gaze once more. I looked at him and he whispered, “Of course it’s important…” 

I turned away again, but he cupped my head in his hand and turned it to face him. “Lucy, you are fearless. Don’t tell me that you woke up from a bad dream, came downstairs, and have nothing to say about it.”

Lockwood was right, he always was. I wanted to tell him the dream, but, I didn’t want him to think I didn’t trust him, or whatever you could interpret from my dream. I decided to tell him, but change it so that the thing that attacked me, rather than being Lockwood, was a ghost.

Lockwood nodded constantly as I told him everything that happened in my dream. “I wasn’t scared, I was just shook…” I said finally.

Lockwood laughed quietly, “But of course.”

The both of us smiled and I realized that we were still holding hands. I squeezed Lockwood's hand softly and he squeezed mine back. The both of us slowly leaned in, and right when our foreheads were about to touch, we heard a crash come from upstairs. 

We released each others hands and stood up. Lockwood cooly and elegantly got in a ready position and got in front of me. However, I had knocked down a chair or two before I was holding my rapier to point towards the stairs which were engulfed in darkness. Lockwood grabbed the lit candle and hoisted it up high to see what had caused all the commotion. He took a step forward and I followed him, being careful not to let my now shaking blade pierce him.

Lockwood slightly frowned while holding down a hearty laugh when the candle's light revealed George at the top of the stairs on the ground. He was looking curiously at the two of us and was holding a small teacup. The teacup had an elegant design, something I never would have thought George would use to drink tea.

“George?” I almost laughed.

The chubby boy with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes looked at me and slightly scowled. “Don’t act like you’ve never gotten up for tea!”

Lockwood snickered, still holding back mountains of laughter. “But I don’t have to act,” I replied to George who in return scowled even more and got up. He walked to his room, opened the door and went in. Lockwood and I looked at each other, neither of us could hold back anymore, we burst out laughing. After the ten minutes of solid humor, I stopped laughing and sat back down at the table picking up the fallen chairs as I walked over.

Lockwood did the same and sat down beside me. The two of us grasped our cups of cocoa and carefully sipped them. Lockwood looked to the other side of the table and picked up the newspaper that was there. “Lucy, look,” he said shockingly calm from what I thought I was about to see in the photo. I expected the three of us, Lockwood, George and me, standing outside one of our client's homes, but that is not what I saw.

I saw a lovely blonde girl with curly hair and chestnut brown eyes standing outside a small house with brick walls and a wooden porch. The windows were tilted and the door was crooked, with the roof that didn’t sit quite straight, the house looked poorly done, but yet the girl was smiling at the camera.

I within an instant recognized her as the daughter of one of our clients. Her name was Charity Twine, a name that suited her well. She was the kindest girl, but her family had little money to give. They had a type two in their basement and Charity was the one to save up enough money to hire us to dispose of it, and according to the paper, her family was now rich. They had found a treasure chest buried in their yard. What are the odds?

I noticed Lockwood looking at the picture of her closely and a feeling of rage came over me. I felt like I wanted to punch Charity, though she had done nothing wrong. I soon recognized the feeling as jealousy, but why was I jealous of Charity? I knew, Lockwood. Lockwood was the only person I was thinking about at the time. I suddenly actually cared about what my hair looked like or how I smelled, but I pushed the thought aside and returned to reality were Lockwood was once again looking at me with that wolf-like smile. I blushed, I felt like had blushed way too many times for one night, but still, I was there, red as a tomato.

Lockwood raised his hand and lightly brushed a strand if hair out of my face. We remained silent, but I yearned to say something to him, anything that would start conversation. Surprisingly, Lockwood was the first one to talk and he said in a shaky, slightly nervous, but somehow still clear voice, “So, I’ve noticed that you know about that small drawing…”

I had almost forgotten about the heart drawn on the thinking cloth. I looked to the heart and had a good, hard, ten seconds of thought before I had decided to get up and ask Lockwood something that I never thought I would ever ask him in a million years, “Who causes you that uncertainty?” I asked.

Lockwood looked flustered at first but then looked down, and then back at me. He cooly sent a hand through his hair and looked into my eyes. “You…” I heard a squeal and thud from upstairs and I was out of breath.

.....

**Anthony Lockwood POV**  
I laid there on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My hands behind my head and my navy blue pajamas were getting warm from being underneath a thick blanket. I looked to the door to see a glint of light go across the hallway and towards the stairs. Lucy, I immediately thought, and I got up to go and see what she was up to. I half expected her to go in the basement to practice, but also half expected her to stay in the kitchen for a cup of tea or cocoa. Lucy often did either of the two whenever she had a nightmare, or couldn’t sleep.

I put on my slippers carefully and walked on. I reached the door and opened it slowly then closed it at the same speed. I went down the hall and down the stairs, stopping less than halfway just to see what she was doing. 

I didn’t want to seem creepy, but I never get any time just to look at her whenever she does tasks and other things which she always does in an extremely special way. George never was very helpful when it came to this. Though he seemed to always be hard as stone in front of everyone else, in front of me, George was a melted stick of butter. He was always going on about how Lucy and I would be perfect, but never really showed this side of him to anyone else.

Lucy had lit a candle and grabbed her rapier, she was looking at the thinking cloth and I had decided that now was an okay time to be noticed. I walked down one step which creaked and Lucy turned around slowly but still quite alert. Her short brown hair was messy from sleeping, and her eyes were full of exhaustion and emotion of some sort unknown to me at the time, but she was beautiful nonetheless. She wore dark green pajamas and no slippers, I wondered how she could stand walking around the house barefoot, especially at night when there was cold and chills and danger. She was holding her rapier to the side and looked slightly startled.

I opened my mouth to speak but the only words that came out were, “Lucy, what are you doing up?”

“Bad dream,” she said calmly, “You?”

I thought for a moment about the question. Well, I had a rough time falling asleep. I replied to her perfectly calm, “Couldn’t sleep,” I thought for a moment and then added, still perfectly calm, “Want some cocoa?”

For a moment, Lucy said nothing, but she soon nodded and thanked me for the offer. I walked down the stairs and grabbed the cocoa mix. I made everything perfect and even put a lot of whipped cream in Lucy’s. I had noticed that she seems to do better after having some extra sugar if she is feeling down or has had a bad dream. I grabbed the two mugs and sat down beside her, placing a mug in front of her.

I grabbed my mug and took a sip looking at Lucy. Subconsciously I found myself smiling that smile that many people described as wolflike. Lucy looked at me and turned pink, this was probably the first time I had properly seen her blush. The candlelight was bright but around us, it was all darkness, I almost felt like we were on a case. But no, this wasn’t a case against a ghost, no, this was a case of feelings, something that was everything but my strong spot in conversation.

Lucy looked down to the cloth and her eyes widened slightly as well as turning from pink to red as she covered up something near the center. I saw it ever so slightly and I felt my cheeks begin to burn. I assumed that I was entirely red, but couldn’t be exactly certain what colour.

“The fruit bowl is usually there…” I said, still blushing like crazy. I hoped she didn’t have an idea on who caused me that uncertainty that was written on the heart. My head swirled with questions like, “Who did she think I liked?”, and “Where was the fruit bowl?”

I looked just past Lucy and there I saw the fruit bowl on the table, now empty and the newly bought portable kettle and stove were gone, that has got to be courtesy of my favorite secret fangirl, George Cubbins.

Lucy looked at me and opened her mouth to speak but, “Oh, I um…” was all she could manage to get out.

Minutes passed with no talking whatsoever. The silence allowed me to think this through. Did she know who I liked? That question was the only thing I was thinking about. But I paused for a moment and decided that I would ask Lucy what her dream was about. I tried to think of a comfortable position that she might explain it more fluently than normal, and I did the only thing that came to my head. I looked down to her right hand and grabbed it with my left one.

Her eyes widened a little and she looked down at our hands which were now entwined. She looked back at me and the blushing stopped, for me atleast. “What was your nightmare about?” I asked her.

Lucy shook her head and turned away from me saying “It’s not important.”

I leaned to the side and met her gaze once more, “Of course it’s important…” which I said a little too quietly. I wanted to list every reason why it was important, why she was important. I cupped her head in my hand and made her face me. I still wanted to list everything, but instead I said, “Lucy, you are fearless. Don’t tell me that you woke up from a bad dream, came downstairs, and have nothing to say about it.”

She gave me that look that she makes whenever she knows that I’m right. Little to her knowledge, even though she tries to hide her signs of powerful emotion, I could read her as easily as I could read a book. Lucy was the most interesting book, her actions were filled with plot twists and I could either predict them from how they would happen to when, or they were so out of the ordinary that I was left in awe at her eccentricity and reaction time.

Soon enough she began to explain her dream and I nodded my head with every detail, but I felt like there was a little white lie somewhere in that story of hers, not that I cared, I have lied plenty, but I just wished that we could be a bit more honest with each other. I silently chuckled at the thought. I was thinking about her being honest with me, when I took forever to inform her or George about my family.

“I wasn’t scared, I was just shook…” Lucy said firmly. 

I knew she was putting on a brave face but was actually hiding her fear deep down. “But of course.” I laughed quietly. Her face was now a pale pink and almost back to normal, at least from what I could see in the dim light, but I didn’t care. 

I felt Lucy’s hand squeeze mine softly and I squeezed hers back. The both of us began to lean in, and just as our foreheads were about to touch, we heard a crash from upstairs. We released each others hands and got up from our seats. I slowly got up and stood proudly in front of Lucy holding the candle, though I knew she was not in the need of protection. She had knocked down a chair or two on her way to a read position so that her rapier was pointed to the stairs and I could tell that the blade was close enough to pierce me if she made any foolish moves, but I had my full trust in my employee.

I slightly frowned as I held back mountains of laughter as I saw the candle’s light illuminate the plump face of my favorite fat, blonde haired boy with blue eyes, George Cubbins. George was holding his secret favorite tea cup. It was tiny and was decorated with delicate designs, and was the last thing you would expect him to drink from.

“George?” Lucy almost laughed.

George slightly scowled at her and said, “Don’t act like you’ve never gotten up for tea!”

I was still holding back so many laughs and hearty chuckles so that I only snickered, but I had to hold it back.

“But I don’t have to act.” Lucy replied to George and I could barely contain the mountains of giggles, and laughs, and chuckles that awaited once George had left. But I didn’t have to wait much longer. George had gotten up, scowled at Lucy, and then retreated back to his room.

Lucy and I looked at each other, and ours eyes were both tearing up from having to contain our humorous thoughts on George and his teacup. The two of us burst into roaring laughter and I was crying so much just at the thought of him with his tiny teacup. I heavily desired to explain to Lucy what was going on with that cup, but George had already threatened to kill me if I told anyone, so naturally I kept my mouth shut.

After the ten or so minutes of raw laughter, Lucy and I went back to our seats and picked up fallen chairs as we went. The both of us sat down and sipped our cocoa. I picked up the newspaper from today which I had neglected on reading which was on the other side of the table, where I usually sat.

I looked at the newspaper to be greeted by the lovely face of Charity Twine. She was the daughter of a client of ours, though she was the one who paid the three of us. Her family was poor and had a type two in their house. “Lucy, look,” I said, and she leaned in to see the photo.

I saw her eyes slightly widen, just slightly, and I looked to the newspaper. Charity was smiling in front of the camera, and if you look closely you could see her family peeking through the curtains of one of their tilted windows. The door was crooked but the wooden porch was perfectly done and was a nice clean area of the exterior. The roof didn’t sit quite straight atop the house, but if you look past all of the badly made structure, it was truly quite sturdy.

I examined the photo further, but soon noticed that Lucy, who was studying the photo from behind me, was turning red, and not from embarrassment, but from anger. After her fury had gone done, I subconsciously I smiled that “wolflike” smile at Lucy. I didn’t mean to, it was just something that I did whenever I was happy and nervous and excited and confused all at the same time.

Lucy looked at me and blushed. I felt as though she had never blushed so many times in her life, it almost seemed out of character for her, but by looking at the then red colour of her cheeks, reminded me that deep down Lucy was truly a softy to certain things. I raised my hand and lightly brushed away a strand of hair from her face.

The two of us were silent for a moment and I decided to say something that I didn't even expect myself to say. “So, I’ve noticed that you know about that small drawing…” I said as clearly as I could muster.

Lucy looked over to the drawing, and after around ten seconds, she turned back to me and stood up. “Who causes you that uncertainty?” she asked her voice crystal clear.

My mind raced at the sound of her question. What should I answer? What could I answer? The question beat on my head like a drum and I tried to think of a reply. I looked down for a second, then back at her. A sudden urge of confidence came over me and I ran my fingers through my hair as if to rid myself of all timidity. I looked into her eyes and whispered, “You…” so that only she could hear it. I heard a squeal and thud from upstairs and Lucy seemed to have lost her breath.

....

**George Cubbins POV**

I was sitting on my chair in front of my desk and I saw a dim candlelight skid across the floor from outside my door. Lucy or Lockwood must have gotten up. Around a minute after seeing the candlelight, I heard footsteps and I then and there knew that both Lucy and Lockwood were downstairs. I got up from my chair and grabbed my favorite tea cup and refilled it with fresh hot tea.

I sat down on a rolly chair near a vent and sat there drinking my tea. I set the cup on the ground in order to dig through a pile of clothes to find a pencil and notepad. I sharpened the pencil with a nearby sharpener. I shoved the chair closer to the vent and got ready to write.

“Lucy, what are you doing up?” I heard Lockwood say.

“Bad dream, you?” Lucy replied.

I vigorously wrote down what I heard, how I heard it, and what it might mean.

“Couldn’t sleep, want some cocoa?” Lockwood said.

I waited for a reply from Lucy. For a moment I wondered if I had missed it, if the direct path from my vent to the vent in the kitchen had a disturbance, but the thought passed me as I heard the bustle and rustle of opening some cocoa mix.

I took a sip of my tea and jotted down what was happening. I flipped the page and continued to write. I sipped my tea once more and got up to refill it. By the time I had sat back down, I had heard Lockwood say, “The fruit bowl is usually there…”

I wrote it down and noted the way he said it. Slightly shaky for Lockwood, very nervous, but I had no idea what they were talking about, despite the fact I heard every word that came out of there mouths.

“Oh, I um…” I heard Lucy say. I wrote down how she was very nervous, and sounded embarrassed. I turned the page again and continued to write. I sipped my tea refilled it and sat back down on my chair. I clutched my pencil tight and tried to listen hard and hear every word that they said. One time Lockwood caught me after Lucy and he had a very important chat about well, I dare not say. He made me rip up the notes and pretend it didn’t happen, but Lucy had no idea what he was trying to tell her, and I was screaming for Lockwood just to explain to her how he felt without only hinting at it to see her reaction, that’s all I will say.

Okay, I take it back, I will say. Lockwood around four weeks ago tried to confess to Lucy that he had a crush on her, but Lucy, being the romanceless wonder she was, had no idea what he was talking about and at one point asked him if she needed to call him a therapist.

I then returned to the task at hand, I had to find out what they were talking about.“What was your nightmare about?” Lockwood asked. Oh how I wished I could’ve seen this moment with my very eyes. I then thought about the security camera set I had almost bought to link up and view the kitchen and basement, the two places were they both had “moments”.

I wrote down everything, and I mean everything. If I heard one of them breathing I would take notes on how they were breathing and what it could mean. The smallest thing could mean the biggest, even the way someone breathes. 

“What was your nightmare about?” I heard Lockood ask. I could just picture it then, Lockwood trapping Lucy into a tight hug, asking her what was wrong, but when I heard Lucy’s response I knew that they were certainly not hugging.

“It’s not important.” Lucy replied.

I stomped my foot hard on the ground. Why wouldn’t they open up to each other. I knew Lockwood was never good with feelings and nor was Lucy but by now the whole world could be fooled that they were dating, and I so often wanted to introduce them as a couple. I remember, it was only a few months after Combe Carey Hall, and a client had come to our house.They took a seat and when Lucy arrived Lockwood just looked at her with smiling eyes, and he made cute remarks about her still needing to brush her hair throughout the meeting.

The client had leaned over to me and whispered, “How long have they been together?”

I had shaken my head and chuckled, “They aren't!”

“Is this what you warned me about over the phone?”

“Maybe…”

I returned to the present and listened hard, not with my inner ear, if I had one, but my actual ear, you now, the one that stuck out of my head. “Of course it’s important…” I heard Lockwood say. I squealed with joy! “Lucy, you are fearless. Don’t tell me that you woke up from a bad dream, came downstairs, and have nothing to say about it.” Lockwood continued.

I squealed even more. I could now imagion Lucy glaring at Lockwood, giving him that face she always makes whenever she knows he’s right but being too proud to admit it. Lucy started to explain her dream and I wrote down every detail. When she explained that she was attacked by a ghost in her dream I circled it, underlined it, and wrote a note saying, “LIAR” and had an arrow pointing to it.

“I wasn’t scared, I was just shook…” Lucy said firmly. I held back a laugh, yeah right girl. If she wasn’t so proud she would be crying in Lockwoods arms, squeezing him tight, and him whispering soothing words into her ear. Sadly, no, that wasn't what had happened.

“But of course.” I heard Lockwood laugh quietly. 

I took a sip of my tea and got up to refill the cup, only to realize that I was out of tea! I walked over to the door and quietly as I could I opened the door. I took one step into the hall, it was silent. I took another step, and then another until I reached the top if the steps. WAM! I tripped over a bump in the rug and landed face down at the top of the steps. I did my best to save my teacup, and spare myself having to buy a new one. 

I looked down the steps to see Lockwood standing in front of Lucy holding up a candle. Lucy had her rapier out and ready to attack. It was deadly close to Lockwood’s back, but I knew that he trusted her not to skewer him like a sausage.

“George?” Lucy almost laughed.

I scowled at her, “Don’t act like you’ve never gotten up for tea!” I said.

I could see Lockwood holding back laughter, I couldn’t blame him, this was bloody hilarious!

“But I don’t have to act.” Lucy said cooly.

I scowled more at her and got up. I walked back to my room and disappeared from their view. I closed the door behind me and sat down on the chair by the vent. Well, I didn’t have tea, but I have my Lockyle predictions. I predicted that Lockwood would tell Lucy around three days from then, but, I digress I still needed to take notes. I once again grabbed my notepad and flipped to the next page. I could hear the two of them laughing and I wrote it down. I smiled at the thought of them now hugging and holding hands, but I knew that was not what was going to happen. Lockwood didn’t have the guts and Lucy, well, Lucy was Lucy.

“Lucy, look,” I heard Lockwood say. I had no idea what they were talking about, and no idea on what it could mean. I waited and waited for someone to say something, but I was waiting a long while. After at least ten minutes I heard Lockwood say, “So, I’ve noticed that you know about that small drawing…”

I held my breath. What small drawing? What could it mean? I waited for a response from Lucy.

“Who causes you that uncertainty?” Lucy said. I held my breath. I think I knew what she was asking him. She was asking Lockwood who he liked! I would feel my lungs burn because I was yet to take another breath.

“You…” Lockwood said.

I let out a sharp squeal and fell out of my chair.


End file.
